Elements
by YFWE
Summary: Scar never wanted to kill them, but what other choice did he have?
**I wrote this for a forum contest a while back and forgot I hadn't posted it here. I think the prompt had something to do with Scar's Lion Guard.**

 **I was listening to a lot of Ludovico Einaudi when I was writing this, hence the story title borrowed from one of his albums. Come to think of it, that's the second time this has happened; a couple years ago, I started another Lion King fanfic that was going to not only borrow the name of one of his albums but also use every song on it as a chapter name. "Divenire," it was called. I got through two chapters and never touched it again, as I'm wont to do.**

 **Hi, Lion King fandom! *waving intensifies*  
**

Elements

Scar never wanted to kill them, but what other way could things have occurred? The elements, they say, make up all vital things in this world, but so, too, can they break you.

The bravest. The strongest. The fastest. The keenest of sight.

Mzizi. Zatili. Ua. Mbingu.

These were the elements Scar was provided. Well, no, perhaps 'provided' was not a totally sound word to use. He had chosen them, sure. The handpicked members of his very own Lion Guard, with he, son of the great Ahadi, as leader. Surely, had he wanted another within his ranks, his wish would have been granted. Once there was a time when the great kings of the past looked down on the cub born Taka with warm, glowing regards. It was not as though he was trapped, cut off, a chronic loner whose only chance at happiness had been squandered early in cubhood, had it ever existed in the first place. He was royalty, and his position as leader was its spoil.

But maybe 'provided' was indeed the correct diction. Did Scar have any choice but to denote Mbingu the keenest of sight, simply because the lion, younger than Scar by a few moons, could see things in the darkness others could not - so much so that sometimes those of Pride Rock wondered if anything was truly there? Could Zatili, brother of Sarabi, be considered the strongest despite regularly losing in snowy contests of strength to both Mufasa and even Scar, who did not fancy himself a brute by any stretch of the imagination? Perhaps Mzizi was indeed the bravest by definition, but his carefree abandon bordered on reckless; countless were the times he needed rescue as a cub because he had gone here, done that, without any resolve beyond simply wanting to emanate some sort of bratty showmanship - it was not as though his feats were necessary, nor were they triumphant.

And then Ua... well, Ua, she truly could outpace anyone in the land.

Scar remembered the day he met the lioness, then a cub, arriving over the horizon with her mother, an escapee from a nearby pride for reasons neither really ever disclosed. They were taken in without question - that was the thing about Scar's father, his insistence on simply doing the right thing, even if the pride's safety could have been compromised by an outsider's unequivocally welcomed arrival.

Not that he minded much; though she was shy at first - these things happen - Ua became a great friend to all in the pride, Scar not excepted. His feelings for her were not romantic at first - the young cub with the starting mane blacker than those around him felt it impractical to dive into such feelings immediately, plus he had only recently been spurned by Sarabi, who clearly had chosen his older brother; her loss. But time passed, and Scar felt twinges of deeper affection for the young lioness who could sprint faster than any gazelle in the land.

And oh, what a graceful stride it was! Ua, even far removed from attaining adulthood, moons from joining the hunting party, could not be outrun, her darker brown fur bristling with every muscle hinge and pivot as she maneuvered in between, say, a herd of galloping wildebeest, a tall, dangerous order that even King Ahadi warned against.

Yes, she was the fastest, there could be no question. It was her end and her end alone that haunted Scar.

Now, the day Scar had learned of his power had been, up to then and every day since, the greatest of his young life. How could he choose a better, worthier time? He, the second born, Taka, prince of the Pride Lands, son of King Ahadi, brother of Mufasa, given a new title to celebrate: leader of the Lion Guard? How could he say no to the very proposition, first and foremost? He fancied himself a strong, competent lion, a worthy successor to his father had his brother not bested him in the race to this world. To that point, Scar, having attained a certain level of young adult gusto but far from what he became when it all ended, expected nothing more than a quiet life, always at the ready if his brother went to the Kings early but mindful of his place within the circle of life. But a challenge? Worth? Meaning? A departure from the mundane that threatened to pacify his reasonable, yet passive, lifespan?

Assembling the guard was no oft-debated task. Growing up among the Pride Landers and their offspring, he knew straight away the best available for the squad - call it intuition to a fault, but he simply considered himself a good judge of character. But again, he had few other choices; by the time he was to assemble his sentry, Mufasa was obviously out of bounds and Scar had little interest in taking on Sarabi. The others aside from those he eventually picked were either too young or simply ordinary in every which way, or in a few cases were so committed to the beckoning of the hunting party that no other group - no matter how important, particularly in Scar's eyes - would do. In later years, he rued not choosing Zira, who might have fit in under keenest of sight, but he had not noticed her yet, certainly not in the way she had or would.

But he was happy with his selections at first - and Ua, Mzizi, Mbingu and Zatili shared the sentiment, so what choice did he have but to exude a little pride? He was - they were - the Lion Guard, the defenders of Pride Rock and the Pride Lands.

Talk rippled through the community that their little Taka, now Scar at his own behest, had taken on the duty with much pomp, certainly surpassing the apathetic reception of his predecessor, himself too a prince who could never quite shake the shadow of his brother and the lessened responsibility that came with it. Where lived out his days in docile apathy, only assembling his guard at the most opportune, necessary happenstance, Scar was initially one of the most active, go-getter leaders the pride elders said they had seen or heard tales of in many, many years.

And, Scar thought, how could he not be? Ahadi's blood ran through his veins too, and his constituents must have recognized by then that if the roles were reversed and he, Scar, were the successor, Mufasa instead relegated to a lieutenant role such as the Lion Guard, the pride would continue its glory days unopposed by the hardships that could befall it. It was not the position of a lifetime, the Lion Guard's head honcho, but it had its perks, that much was true.

For a while, it was a formidable team, Scar's Lion Guard, a fine-tuned mechanism that relied on each of its parts as key and integral. Mbingu was often the lookout, perhaps a scout. The force of Zatili's muscle-bound body, which only grew with experience, could send a hyena sprawling many paces away, with the lion barely batting an eye to do it. Mzizi could not be tamed, a redoubtable battler on the front lines as well as the group's rallying cry. Ua, ensuring no being could ever escape their clutches, dazzling foes with brilliant feats of acceleration that left them ripe for defeat. And Scar, head of it all, his mighty roar supplemented by the power of the Great Kings, a harbinger of justice and great power.

No rock went unturned, no hyena escaped unscathed, no visiting pride - on the few uncommon occasions one even set paw within the Pride Lands' bounds - went without bowing a knee to King Ahadi, and it was the Lion Guard that paved the way to incalculable success. After a time, Scar could even sense his brother's frustration - Mufasa, the future king but still a mere doted-upon prince, lounging in the shade hearing war stories of his elders and observing menial king duties while Scar and his friends played the heroes.

The setup might have been grand, a long-lasting partnership that continued far into Mufasa's kingly reign, had Scar not had the dream.

It was simple: One evening, Scar found himself atop Pride Rock, its denizens - and every other member of the Pride Lands, perhaps more still from neighboring lands - stretched as far as the eye could see before him. Rafiki playfully fiddled with a headdress of sorts - Scar had heard it called a crown - made of tiny tree twigs and adorned with a glinting object found in the deepest reaches of the nearby gorge. "For de king," the mandrill whispered. "King Scar of the Pride Lands." A great, whooping cheer rose from the massive attendance. Mufasa - and Scar's father - were nowhere to be found.

Ua later confided in Mzizi that Scar spoke of the dream often to her. She and Scar's friendship had budded into something more, exceeding platonic yet separate of romantic, though the path to such feelings was seemingly within their grasp. Many evenings the two lions spent the night together, sometimes in hurried, dire talk of various Lion Guard duties, but other instances simply to talk the talk of the day, whatever it may be.

"He keeps seeing himself as the king," Ua murmured to Mzizi with a disapproving gaze. "I ask him about Mufasa and his father. He doesn't know where they are. All he knows is it's his coronation as king."

"Do you think it's affected anything?" Mzizi asked. "Anything at all?"

"Just that he says it's becoming all he thinks about. That even the Lion Guard seems irrelevant in comparison."

Ua worried about her friend, the lion she liked to call Taka despite his insistence otherwise, though she felt his resolve lessen with each affable regard. And it came to a head one day when, as she recounted to Mzizi later, when Scar, completely unprompted, glanced up from a meal, his face wet with the juices of a fresh kill, and announced to no one in particular despite Ua's placement nearby, "What if Mufasa was gone? What if I was the king of Pride Rock?"

The day Ahadi died, Scar did not arrive in the former king's chambers but for a brief moment to pay his respects to his father, frail in death and in old age, though nothing more. Sarabi did not even realize he had come and gone, and Mufasa had received just a curt nod from his brother, though he unburdened later to Sarabi that his brother's gaze felt elsewhere, perhaps on another plane entirely.

And it was true - Scar had let his mind wander that day, a byproduct of his father's sudden, but not unforeseen, demise. Mufasa was king now, as was customary and had been planned ever since birth.

But what had Mufasa done besides lurk in the shadow of his elder? Scar was the active one, the defender of Pride Rock, daily ensuring the safety of the Pride Lands with his Lion Guard. His brother merely sat around and waited for the throne to come to him. Well, now it was his - was he ready for it? Was he truly prepared for what was in store, equipped to lead his fellow lions into the next chapter of the circle of life?

Admittedly, yes. Mufasa was a wise ruler from the start, sturdy in his resolve and even-tempered with his constituents, a brave and capable leader.

And it pained Scar so.

He recalled pacing. Lots and lots of pacing. He was beneath the promontory of Pride Rock, the rest of the Lion Guard reclined lazily before him, enjoying shade from the potent summer sun. They lay, but not he - Scar paced. And paced. And paced.

"You're gonna wear a trench in the ground, bud," called Zatili sleepily.

"Yeah, Scar, what's eatin' ya?" Mbingu asked, swatting a fly from his left ear.

"Oh, isn't it obvious?" asked Mzizi, eyes rolling as he perked up from a brief nap. "Muffy's in charge."

Yes, Scar explained, yes, that was it. Mufasa had assumed the kingship of Pride Rock despite doing little to earn it. Why, Scar might be stronger by now, was he not? He had the roar of the elders on his side, after all. How could such a powerful lion be unfit to lead?

What if, the lion wondered aloud, a regime change was in order?

But the very elements that partially benefited his rise to prominence could only shake their heads at the proposition. The Pride Lands had been ruled by the same dynasty for as long as any one lion could recall, and things always seemed to occur the way they should, as though balance in the world had been reached, captured and hung over Pride Rock like a great grass blanket, enveloping its citizens in a warm, peaceful embrace.

They laughed off Scar that day, disregarding his scenario as quickly as it had come, suddenly called to an important meeting with Mufasa and Sarabi that threatened to last the entire evening, matters of pride security the chief topic of discussion. Ua did much of the speaking; Scar, he claimed, felt weak in his vocal cords, perhaps the onset of illness. He wished to not speak with Mufasa, nor any others, lest he make things worse; rather, he observed from afar, his mind adrift with the thoughts of elements and their place within his greater purpose.

It all went so fast thereafter, a blur of extraordinary proportions given the enormity of the situation. Soon Scar found himself on the northern border, flanked by his regiment, staring down a pack of hyenas that thought it worthwhile to check in on the new management; word of the great Ahadi's death had traveled.

Soon the animals slunk back into the crevices of their rocky home, and Ua and the others were ready to turn back home. Scar remained.

"Hey, Scar, you good?"

He asked them what they thought of him. Their responses varied, but they were chiefly positive, encouraging words. He asked the same of Mufasa, the answers less doting but altogether genial.

Scar arrived at his point quite suddenly: Would they, his Lion Guard, support him in a coup?

His yellow eyes had lost the boyish pride that once gleamed within them. They darted about, leaping from lion to lion, each of whom stood, mouths agape, Ua silently shaking her head.

"You will not help me take down my brother?" he asked. "Rid the land of a king not fit to be king? Instill the leader you've followed since we were barely out of cubhood? Proclaim your allegiance to King Scar?!"

"How?" Mzizi called. "You are but one lion, and we, though four more, do not stand a chance against the rest of the pride, even if we wanted to."

"Why, with my roar, of course."

It was the word Ua had dreaded for many moons. Scar's roar, the Great Kings' roar, the powerful sound that beat back enemies, frightened attackers, ruined opposing conquests... a tool in the vanquishing of King Mufasa? An instrument of... evil?

Mzizi objected immediately. Mbingu and Zatili followed. What Scar was doing was insane, they said, the sign of madness. Mufasa was the rightful king, Scar his heir until he bore a son. His designs on the throne were unfounded, in jest, machinations for a title that did not befit him. He was Scar, the second born, Taka, prince of the Pride Lands, son of King Ahadi, brother of Mufasa, leader of the Lion Guard.

They were the first to go. All the while, Scar had been readying himself for a moment he had only dreamt of: the loudest, strongest, most potent roar he had ever mustered, an unspeakable force that, he felt, would send shivers down the spines of even his own guard, perhaps even forcing them onto bent adherence to his unmistakable rule.

But when the roar rose from his throat and reverberated across the Pride Lands, narrowly missing Ua and careening in the direction of Mzizi, Mbingu and Zatili, Scar had not expected what came next: a wave of chaos, one that shook the ground before them, impacted his once-subservient battalion, panicked looks in their eyes giving way to blank stares before their bodies collapsed to the ground, unmoving, no more.

What happened next was certainly not Scar's intent, either. Ua shrieked, her gaze moving quickly from her fallen comrades to Scar, a look of abject fear within her eyes Scar had never seen, nor did he wish to. She turned to run, mouthing something as she did so that, seasons later, Scar still struggled to make out within the confines of his mind. He tried to call to her, to stop her, he himself taken aback by the scene, by their friends strewn about on the ground in front of them.

But all that came was, again, that roar, mighty still though weakened, perhaps in Scar's conflicting shock and dismay over what had occurred. He shut his eyes immediately and he held his breath for what felt like an eternity. He did not want to lay eyes on what he was certain of: four motionless lions, not three.

The story was simple, at least as it was relayed by Scar: Another lion pride, banded together with some hyenas, threatening to invade the land after Ahadi's death. Scar and the Lion Guard had made it in time, he told Mufasa, but the battle was swift, and they were outnumbered. Finally, seeing his friends downed around him, Scar let out the Lion Guard's roar that he should have emitted from the start, and it beat back the Pride Lands' attackers; he watched them disappear over the horizon, swearing vengeance one day but seeming uncertain of such a thing so long as the lion with the great roar remained.

But it came at a price, said Scar: his roar, he felt, was absent, vanished just like the lives of his friends, gone with the Lion Guard, which he felt he could no longer lead.

The elements gave, and so too did they break him.


End file.
